


One Hell Of A PA

by Pandastuff101



Category: Supernatural
Genre: #hollywooddestiel, #moviestarcas, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 10,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandastuff101/pseuds/Pandastuff101
Summary: Dean Winchester has been waiting all his life to move to Hollywood, California and become a big star. But when he gets there, things don't exactly go his way at first. He lands a job as a Personal Assistant for  new movie, and there he meets the star: Castiel Novak.





	1. The New Guy In Town

Dean jumped off the side of the tour trolley. He was fine, of course, since the thing was moving only a mile an hour or so. He had made it: Dean Winchester was finally in Hollywood. Side stepping past people carrying props, food, and even someone riding a mini scooter, he finally made it into the long white building. It was even crazier inside than it was out. Dozens of people milled about, each going about their business with a sense of purpose. Before Dean had time to look around, a portly, well dressed man called him over.  
"You!" he said, pointing at Dean.  
Dean pointed back at himself and mouthed 'me?'  
The man rolled his eyes, and beckoned Dean yet again, "Yes, you. Get over here." The man's voice rang with a thick English accent.  
Dean half-jogged over. When he got there, the man immediately shoved a stack of papers into his arms.  
"Pass these scripts out." the man gruffly commanded. He turned to the man standing next to him and began to speak with him as though Dean had never been there.  
Dean shifted a little, trying to get the man's attention. "Uh, excuse me?" the man turned, an eyebrow raised. Dean took it as a sign to continue, "I don't work here."  
The man sighed dramatically, "Do you want to?"  
Dean thought about it for a moment, and slowly nodded.  
"Fabulous. Welcome to the job. Now hand those out." the man turned away from Dean yet again.  
Dean wandered away from the man and whomever he was talking to in a puddle of complete confusion. Who was he supposed to hand these stupid scripts out to, anyway?  
He walked up the the nearest person, who happened to be a man about his age. His shoulders were hunched, and he was dressed in a red varsity jacket. Dean thought he heard mumbling coming from him, but he ignored it. He tapped the boy on his shoulder, and the boy turned around smiling.  
The boy had dark, tousled brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. Dean was taken aback for a second as he stared at him, his courage chipping away.  
"Can I help you?" the boy asked, his smile blinding.  
"Er, yes. See, that man," Dean pointed in the general direction of the man he was talking to before, "gave me these scripts to pass out. But it's my first day, well, first ten minutes actually, so I have no idea who to pass them out to. So I was wondering..." Dean took a breath, and assessed the situation quickly. He was rambling, and the man was gone so he looked stupid pointing at nothing. He lowered his staring eyes from the boy's and ran a hand through his sandy blond hair. "I was wondering if I could get some help?" he muttered weakly.  
The boy smiled even brighter, if possible, "Sure! I'd love to help. That was Crowley, by the way. He's the producer, and he's been known to hand out jobs to anyone passing through." the boy shook his head in disgust.  
"I take it you don't like him?" Dean said questioningly.  
The boy chuckled, "Not much, no. But he's my boss, and a genius so...." he shrugged. "I'm Castiel Novak, by the way."  
The boy, Castiel, held out his hand and Dean took it in his own to shake, "Why does that sound familiar?"  
Castiel shrugged again, modestly, "I've been in a few movies."  
"Oh, yeah! You were in '13 Once!'"  
Castiel raised an eyebrow, "You saw that? Most people who did were, well, teenage girls. No judgment, though...."  
Dean chuckled nervously, "No! It's not like that! I babysat my brother Sam a lot, and he has a ton of friends that are girls."  
Castiel laughed, and helped himself to half of the papers.  
"Let's go pass these out," he said.  
"So, Castiel is kind of a mouthful. Is it alright if I call you Cas?" Dean said boldly.  
Castiel smiled, "Cas. I like that. Sure."  
Dean grinned back at him, and they stopped at a small group of people to hand out some of the scripts. Once they had finished, they continued walking.  
"So what brings you to Hollywood?" Cas asked conversationally.  
Dean shrugged, "The usual, I guess. Fame, fortune, hot chicks."  
Cas laughed.  
They heard someone dog whistle close by, and they turned around quickly.  
"Hello, Castiel!" an accented voice said. It belonged to a sharply dressed man with wavy blond hair.  
"Balthazar!" Cas cried, giving the man a one armed hug while trying desperately to hang on to his papers. Once he let go, he turned back to Dean, "Pardon my manners, Dean, this is Balthazar. Balthazar, this is Dean, a new PA. Sorry, I didn't get your last name..." Cas said apologetically.  
Dean gave Balthazar his free hand, "Winchester. Dean Winchester, at your service."  
Balthazar shook it lightly, "Nice to meet you Dean. A PA you say? Not an actor?" it was an innocent enough comment, but something in the way he said it made it seem like a jab.  
Dean shook it off.  
"I just moved here, so no, haven't had the time to make a name for myself yet." he smiled wolfishly.  
"Well, I do hope you enjoy it here then Dean. Nice to meet you, and I'll see you on set for my cameo, Castiel." he gave Cas a quick peck on the cheek, and left.  
"So...you and him?" Dean said once Balthazar was out of earshot.  
Cas put a hand to his chest in mock horror, "Good Chuck no! It's just a thing for the press, you know? He's more of a brother to me." Cas winked playfully, "I am gay though."  
Dean laughed lightly, "Good to know, I guess. Did you say 'good Chuck'? What does that even mean?"  
"Chuck Shurley is one of the greatest screenwriters of our time, he wrote and directed the Winchester Gospel movies. You've never heard of him?"  
Dean shook his head.  
"That's a shame," Cas sighed, "anyways, it's just a joke on set. You know, he's some kind of god here."  
Dean nodded.  
"Shall we continue passing these out?" Cas asked.  
They began to walk around once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did get a few complaints on how my chapters needed to be indented. Sorry about that, usually I pre-write it on a google doc, but not this time. From now on I'll try to do that. Tell me what other mistakes you see, and thank you very much!!!


	2. And Scene

Dean quickly found that being a PA was not an easy job. It was tiring running too and fro on the whims of the actors, collecting whatever they needed. Most of them were polite, but some, like Crowley, had let their star status go to their heads. He tried to avoid the rude ones as best as he could, but the job was pretty darn close to slavery all the same. 

Once Cas and Dean had finished handing out the scripts, they were both whisked away in opposite directions. Dean was called over to do a pizza run, even though they had plenty of good food. Cas had to go run lines before they shot the next scene.

When Dean finally got back from getting the pizza, he made his way over to a large crowd of people. Someone took the pizza from him. 

The crowd was watching Cas and an actress named Hannah Crews do a scene. Dean watched on with interest.

Cas took Hannah's hands gently and stared tenderly into her eyes.

¨Emily, I will always be here for you.¨

Hannah licked her lips, and tore her gaze away from Cas´s.

¨No, you don´t understand. I´m monster.¨ she whispered.

¨No,¨ Cas shook his head, ¨you´re an angel.¨

He engulfed her in his arms and, after a moments pause, Crowley shouted ¨Cut!¨

Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts. Cas was good, really good. For a second, Dean had been ensnared in the scene. It really seemed like they were a couple....but no, Cas was gay.

Not that Dean would´ve had cared if they were a couple.


	3. Benny's Guitar

Dean was getting antsy in his apartment, if you could call it that. It was really a wooden box stacked on other wooden boxes and filled with mold and cockroaches. He hated everything about it, except for the view. The view, and that he couldn't afford much else, was why he had chosen this particular apartment. It was beautiful. An unblocked view of the Hollywood sign, which at night lit up the surrounding hills, and in the morning the sun's rays made it glow red.

Dean turned on the TV, but all that showed was static. He turned it off, and drummed his fingers on his beer can.

"Fuck it." he said, hopping up from the couch.

He pulled on a decently clean shirt and grabbed the keys to the Impala. It didn't take long to find the nearest bar: this was Hollywood, after all. He was pleased to find it to be everything he was looking for: decently clean, full of life, and with live music. He made his way to the bar, where a pretty girl with long brown hair waited on him.

Normally Dean would be all over her, but tonight he felt indifferent for some reason he couldn't explain. He forced himself to flirt a little, anyways,

"What can I get you?" she asked,smiling.

"What's your specialty, sweetheart?" Dean said, smirking.

"Well, my name's Casey, I make a mean hurricane, and my shift ends in thirty five. What do you say?"

"I say I would very much like to take you out somewhere, and a hurricane sounds great. And my name is Dean." Dean grinned, though he had never drunken a hurricane in his life.

She winked at him and poured his drink. Once it was in his hand, Dean pushed through the crowd and to the stage.

A man with a scruffy beard was playing country on his guitar.

"'Cause I've got friends in low places

Where the whiskey drowns  
And the beer chases my blues away  
And I'll be okay  
I'm not big on social graces  
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis  
Oh I've got friends in low places."

Dean sipped his drink, barely paying attention to the taste. He wasn't one for country, but he thirsted for music.

The song ended, and the man thanked the crowd saying, "Thank's everyone. I'm going to take a drink break now, so please welcome our next performer."

The crowd clapped enthusiastically as the new guy set up. He began to sing a new song, one Dean didn't recognize. A bit into the song, Dean saw someone sit next to him out of the corner of his eye. 

"You're new here." said the man certainly, smiling.

Dean turned. It was the man who had just sang.

"Yes, actually. How do you know?"

The singer laughed, "I think I would have recognized a pretty face like yours, brother."

Dean blushed furiously, "I-I-"

The man waved a hand, laughing, "Relax. I'm married to a beautiful woman."

Dean took a big sip of his drink, his cheeks still hot enough to fry an egg. Once he was done drinking, he choked out, "Er, what's her name?"

"Andrea." the man said fondly, "The love of my life. What's your's? I'm Benny."

"Dean Winchester," Dean said, clasping Benny's hand.

"So, do you sing." Benny said, using his drink to motion to the stage.

Dean shook his head modestly, "Only a little."

"You should try it some time. Free drinks, and a buck fifty per song."

Dean looked at him curiously, "A buck fifty?? That's below the minimum wage."

"It's better than nothing. And besides, free drinks."

"Good point. I don't know, I guess we'll see." Dean said uncertainty.

"Live like you're dying, brother. Everyone's to drunk to notice."


	4. And, Suddenly, Cas

Dean got caught up in talking to Benny, and was surprised when he felt an arm snake around him.

"Are you ready to go?" he heard Casey whisper in his ear.

He turned around, grinning at her. 

"Yeah. One second." he turned back to Benny, "It was nice talking to you. Are you here every night?"

Benny nodded, "Cheers to that. Yeah, of course. When Andrea's not busy, what else is there to do?"

Casey tugged playfully on Dean's jacket, "Are you done or are you two going to need a moment? And a room, may I suggest?" she teased.

They laughed.

"Be careful with her, she's a wild one." Benny joked.

Casey rolled her eyes, "Night, Benny."

"Goodnight Casey, Dean."

They left Benny, and began to walk towards the exit. Before they got there, however, a commotion caught their attention. A man at the bar was beating the living daylights out of someone. Dean ran over and pulled the guy off him. The guy turned around, a punched Dean before stalking off. 

"Son of a bitch!" Dean swore.

A trickle of blood ran from his nose, and he wiped it off with the sleeve of his jacket.

He bent down to help the other man up. He was in far worse shape than Dean. His face was already turning a sickly purple from the bruising. 

"Hey, man, are you okay?"

The man, who had been brushing himself off, looked up at Dean in surprise.

"Cas?!?!"

"Dean! What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing picking fights with the local trolls?"

Cas laughed, "I was just telling him that when a hooker says three hundred dollars, she means three hundred or fuck off."

Dean pt his arm around Cas's shoulder to keep him steady, "Geez. Didn't think you were the type. Why didn't you get a few punches in?"

Cas shook his head sadly, "Violence isn't the answer, Dean. That man had to much to drink, and that was affecting his thinking."

"Still, what is everyone going to say tomorrow? Your makeup ladies will not be happy."

Cas grinned, "They're miracles. I'm sure they can figure out something. Crowley, though..."

Dean turned back around to face Casey, "Sorry. This is Castiel, from my work."

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh? What are you?"

Dean laughed awkwardly, and rubbed his neck, "Currently? A PA for whatever movie they're filming-"

"Josh's Song."

Dean snapped his fingers, "Josh's Song."

"Ah. Listen, I think I need to go. You two...I don't know...have a good night, I guess?" Casey sai awkwardly, eyeing them together.

Dean dropped his arm from Cas's shoulders, "No! Wait, it's not like that! I'm not-"

It was to late. Casey was already pushing open the door, leaving Dean and Cas alone in a bar full of people.

Cas turned to Dean, grinning.

"She thinks you looooveee me." he said in a sing-song voice, drawing out the love.

Dean blushed, and took a seat at the bar. Cas sat next to him,

"Nah," he said, taking a sip of Cas's whisky. He wrinkled his nose, but shrugged as he took another sip, "Again, didn't think you were the type."

Cas snatched the glass out of Dean's hand and downed it, "A lot of things you don't know about me, mister." he winked, his speech getting slightly slurred.

Dean chuckled, "How did you get here?"

"I walked. I like walking on the city streets, it's calming and exciting at the same time. Just think; at any moment you could get stabbed!" Cas joked.

"Great. I'll drive you home."

"No, you don't need to do that." Cas said, standing up.

"Sure I do. Can't have you getting raped and murdered by Justin Timberlake."

"He would totally do that. I met him last summer." Cas said, leaning against Dean.

"I'm sure he would," Dean said, speaking to Cas like he was a tired child and not a drunk one, "Hollywood's a fucked up place." he whispered, looking down at the famous actor who was using him as a support pillar.

"Very fucked up." he repeated as said famous actor threw up on the corpse of a cat.


	5. We're Getting Drunk On A Plane

Cas and Dean found themselves staying a lot longer than either of them initially thought they would. Dean realized Cas had had a lot more to drink before Dean had found him.

"What are all these shot glasses?" Dean said, seeing them for the first time.

"Oh, those are mine." Cas said, grinning and taking a sip of Dean's beer. They had been trading drinks all night.

"What? There are like, eighteen of them!"

"I know. I have a high aptitude for alcohol tolerance."

"I'll say." Dean rubbed his forehead, and checked his watch, "Jeez. It's midnight."

"So....."

"So we both have work in the morning, right?"

Cas sighed, "I guess."

"You are a crazy drunk."

"I told you, there are quite a few things you don't know about me." he said, finishing off his beer.

They got their jackets and left the bar. It was a clear night, and very bright out. Though, Dean didn't think it got very dark at all in the city.

When they reached Dean's car, Cas whistled.

"Nice. What model?"

"1967 Chevy Impala. Got it from my old man." Dean said proudly, patting the top of the car.

They climbed in.

"So, Cas, what's the address?"

Cas smiled slyly at Dean, "I don't know, Dean. I'm not sure I want this night to end, really."

"What do you want to do, then, Cas?" Dean said, warming up to the idea.

Cas looked off into the distance, and pointed, "I hear the Hollywood sign is lovely this time of year.

The climb to the hill was quick, but they found their way blocked by a barbed wire fence. Cas frowned, disappointed, "Huh. That's a disappointment."

Dean ignored him, and shrugged off his denim jacket. He studied the fence, "It's not that high, we can jump it."

Cas turned to Dean, smiling, "Jump it? It's barbed, how do we-" he saw Dean's jacket in his hands and laughed, "okay, your call."

Dean threw the jacket over the fence, braced his feet against it, and climbed over it with one pull. Cas climbed over less gracefully, the trenchcoat he was wearing getting caught in the barbs on top of the fence. 

"A little help here?" he pleaded. The back of his trenchcoat was lifted so high he could barely move.

Dean helped him, and they started walking down the hill.

"It's quiet up here." Dean observed.

"Well, yeah, based off the fence I would guess this to be private property."

Suddenly, Dean howled like a wolf. Cas jumped in surprise, and hit him.

"Why did you do that? My heart is racing, feel it!" he growled, putting Dean's hand on his chest.

Dean raised his eyebrow. He really could hear Cas's heart, but he didn't pay any attention to it.

"Ready to keep going?"

They kept walking, and soon they had reached the base of the sign. It was huge, looking up at it made Dean feel small. Inconsequential.

He whistled.

"Well, this certainly burns your eyes out."

Cas nodded, "It's not unbearable, though. Warmly bright, if you ask me."

Dean shrugged, but laughed at Cas's words, "That's a way to put it."

Cas sat next to the sign, with his back to it. Dean sat next to him. In truth, he was slightly afraid that he would roll the steep, dusty hill.

"It's a great view." Cas said quietly, bringing his legs to his chest and resting his chin on them.

Dean sat next to him with his legs spread out and his hands clutching the grass tightly. He was a little afraid he would roll down the steep, dusty hill.

Cas looked at Dean silently. In the light of the sign, his blue eyes glinted.

"You're something special, Dean." he murmured.

"How so?" Dean whispered back.

Cas leaned closer to Dean, "I could show you." he smirked.

He moved so he was over Dean, his face inches away. Dean's heart began to race as Cas's nose brushed his. "You're special," he whispered, his lips brushing Dean's, "because I love you."

He pressed his lips firmly to Dean's

*Write me some great smut to put in here....or....IMAGINATION xD*


	6. Bone Tired

Dean woke up with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. He dragged himself out of his bed, and got dressed with the lights off. The sun outside was so bright he wanted to scream. Why was it up? It was only seven thirty. 

Once he was on set, Dean joined the rest of the stumbling cast and crew. He wasn't the only walking-dead extra on sight. No one looked ready to start the day: even Crowley's sass was more subdued than usual.

Dean felt someone wrap an arm around his shoulders. It was Cas, looking completely fine despite the fact that he drank twice as much as Dean that last night. He was like a ray of light, one that didn't make Dean's head hurt. 

"Hey." Cas said grinning, "What's wrong?"

"Some of us don't have holy alcohol intolerance." Dean grumbled good naturedly.

Cas laughed.

"I have to go get my stuff on," Cas said, dragging Dean by his hand.

"Am I allowed to come with you? I have to work, too." he complained, smiling.

Cas stopped and put s hand on Dean's mouth, "You are working. You're helping me. That's your job." he said seriously. His eyes sparkled mischievously. 

He took his hand off Dean's lips and stole a quick glance around them. No one was looking, so he stole an even quicker kiss. Cas grinned again and continued dragging Dean to his dressing room.

He took his costume, just the outfit of a stereotypical jock, and ducked behind a wall divider. Dean whistled as he looked around the room. It had a cold, concrete floor, but also a nice leather couch and a table with a Hollywood mirror.

There was also a fridge, but there was nothing of interest in it to Dean. 

Cas came out from behind the divider and rolled over the back of the couch. Once he was comfortable, Dean sat down and put Cas's feet in his lap.

"Tell me about yourself." Dean said, rubbing Cas's socked feet gently.

"Oooh, an interview. Never can have too many of those." Cas said sarcastically. 

Dean poked his leg, and Cas laughed softly, "I don't know Dean. There isn't much to know."

"Yes there is. I know Hollywood you, all about your career. But what about before you were a big shot? What's it like in that crazy head of your's, Cas. I want to know. Do you have a family?"

Cas groaned quietly and put a hand on his face, "Dean I don't want to talk about it." his voice cracked.

Dean was silent for a moment.

"Sorry. I don't want to press you."

Cas took his hand down from his face, and took Dean's in it.

"It's fine. Just not right now."

"That's okay, Cas. I understand."

Cas sat up and kissed Dean on the cheek. He put his head on Dean's shoulder, and they sat like that for a moment.

"Thank you."


	7. Roll Credits

Dean was tired after work. It had been a long day, as they were rushing to beat deadline. Dean had been working as a PA for two weeks now, and, he guessed, he had been seeing Cas for just as long. 

When Dean got back to the crappy apartment he was beginning to call home, he immediately kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the worn out couch. He had found it on the side of the road, and it probably wasn't the best idea, but Dean brought it home anyways. It was red, unstained, but well used and broken in. 

He rolled over on his back, starring up at the popcorn tile ceiling. Dean sighed, and reluctantly got up from the couch. There was nothing in the refrigerator for him to eat, especially not the pie he was craving. He was to tired to go out and get any, so he grabbed his guitar and sat back down on the couch. Dean strummed it lightly, and frowned. It had been awhile since he had played, and the instrument was desperately in need of tuning. Dean fixed that quickly.

He began to strum, G, D, D, G. The beginning. Once Dean was sure he had the notes and the tempo, he began to sing.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad, take a sad song and make it better 

As he sang Dean remembered his mother crooning the same song to him before he slept every night

Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better 

Dean remembered her leaning over him, and kissing his forehead. "Never forget, Dean, angels are watching over you." she would tell him confidently.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid, you were made to go out and get her 

Dean was slightly surprised when he began to think about Cas, and how much he would like to sing this for him.

The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better 

Cas was a big Beatles fan, and he was a secret sucker for romantic gestures. Dean smiled to himself.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don't carry the world upon your shoulder 

That would be nice. He couldn't imagine bringing Cas here, gosh no, but maybe to a nice park. Sometime when they had the day off, and both of them wouldn't be tired from work.

For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool, by making his world a little colder.

Dean put his guitar back in it's case, and rested his chin on his hand. A plan began to form in his mind.


	8. Feel The Reaper

Cas wasn't there when Dean poked his head into his dressing room the next morning, so Dean went back to the main set. Almost immediately, one of the actresses pulled him aside. She held out her phone to him, her red hair draping across her shoulder.

"Hey, will you do me a favor?"

"Sure." Dean shrugged, taking the phone.

She clapped his shoulder, "Great, call my boyfriend and tell him I'm opening up my options. His names Zach, I have him on speed dial. When you're done, take him off that, too."

Dean stared at her in disbelief, "You want me to break it off with your boyfriend for you?"

"Yeah, and add my number on your phone so you can call me later." she winked at him, patted his chest, and walked away.

Dean shook his head, but called the poor guy anyways.

"Hello?" came a tired voice from over the phone.

"Hi, this is Dean Winchester. I'm a PA, and your girlfriend told me to call you and say she is, um, freeing her options."

"You're not serious?" the voice said harshly.

"Yeah, I am, actually. Sorry, man."

He cursed, and muttered something to himself, "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

The line went dead, and Dean closed the phone with a snap. Honestly, was Cas the only normal actor in this place? He found the actress at a makeup table getting dolled up. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned around. Dean held out her phone with a loose hand, and she smiled at him.

"Thanks so much!"

Dean grunted, and left her.

Dean wandered over to the camera men, who were gathered around trying to figure out some last-minute shots, to see if there was anything he could do. They waved him away.

So it was out of desperate boredom that Dean volunteered to do the Dunkin Donuts run, with everyone piling on their orders.

He climbed into the Impala with the long list, and began to drive. It wasn't too far away, and so Dean figured it wasn't going to take very long. All the same, he was really needed something to do.

What he was not expecting was to find two men beating the shit out of someone on the street corner. Dean quickly parked, and pulled the men off of the guy. 

"What the hell!? Stop!" Dean yelled, pushing them away. The cowards took off running down the street. 

Dean inspected the rumpled man.

"Balthazar?" Dean asked, becoming very sick of having to break up celebrity brawls.

"Oh, hello Winchester. How ever are you doing?" the man said sarcastically.

"What's happening? First Cas that night at the bar, and now this? You famous people attract fist like magnets."

Balthazar dabbed at the corner of his mouth, where blood trickled. When he spoke, his cultured voice was shaking.

"Therein lies the problem. It would appear that our dear Castiel has gotten into some trouble with the local mafia."


	9. I Don't Love You

Dean sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, still wrapped in shock. Balthazar had insisted on driving, saying that Dean was far to upset to drive. 

"My life is precious." the blond had said, shoving Dean into his seat.

"I just don't understand, what does the mafia have against Cas?" Dean said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

Balthazar was going to slow. Dean needed to be in action, needed to be doing something to help Cas.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Balthazar sighed, "For reasons he never told me, the mafia once sent an ambassador of sorts to his house. The ambassador was armed, and Cas said he was trying to threaten him. Castiel spooked and well, shot him. At least, that's what he told me. I always wondered if he was leaving something out."

Balthazar turned into the parking lot of the studio, idling the car for a minute before shutting it off. He turned to Dean, "I guess this is kind of their revenge. Must have been a big somebody. I'm honestly surprised you didn't hear about it, 'was all over the news and all. Hollywood Star Shoots Local Gang Member and all that jazz."

"Cas wasn't charged?"

Balthazar waved a hand, "There was a big show of a trial, but no one really cared. Got off with a few months and a huge fee but, well." he shrugged.

"And know the mafia has him, and we have no clue what the sons of bitches will do to him. What do we do, Balthazar?"

"Me?" he put a hand on his chest almost daintily, "I am going into hiding. Cas' best friend and rumored lover is not getting off easy when they're pissed off."

"You're just going to run away!?" Dean cried, throwing up his hands.

"I like my ass very much, Dean Winchester, it is very fine." Balthazar hissed, "I will, however, be the one breaking the news to the crew. After that, I'm going on an extended vacation to Paris." he smiled, "I do love the French."

Disgusted, Dean climbed out of the car. Balthazar followed close behind.

"It's not that I don't love the fellow-" he began.

"Shut you're mouth," Dean growled, turning on him, "if you did care, you would help me find him."

"What are we going to do, Winchester? That the police can't?"

"Something. There is always something we can do."

Balthazar shook his head, his eyes sad. A whisper of a bruise was beginning to form on his cheek, "I wish there was."


	10. Uma Thurman

They were gathered in Cas' dressing room, all the cast and crew, and though it was a tight fit no one minded. Not in light of the news.

Crowley was pacing in the front of the room, while Balthazar relayed the story to him. Dean sat next to Balthazar on the couch. He was sitting in the middle, where he usually sat because Cas could put his feet in Dean's lap while still sort of curling up.

They hadn't been together for long before this happened, but Dean had memorized the little things all the same.

Nobody spoke for awhile after Balthazar finished, so Dean piped up, "What are we going to do?"

Crowley looked at him with annoyance, "Call the bloody police, of course. Until then, we can't simply go on filming. Not when the movies halfway shot and we no longer have the flipping star!" he threw up his hands.

Crowley adjusted his black suit coat, and pointed to a random PA, "You, schedule me a meeting with Mick Davis. We have to tell him this thing is going to be late, and you," he pointed to another personal assistant, who immediately held up their notepad, "Start making ads for casting auditions. Don't go posting them, mind, I think I might be able to get Timberlake. He seemed interested in the role..."

Dean hopped to his feet, "Just like that you're going to replace him? Not even going to see if the police find him soon or anything? Do you have no morals?" he huffed angrily.

Crowley eyed him, "Both my mother and my ex-wife tell me I have about as many morals as the king of hell, thank you. Novak was taken by the mafia. The bloody mafia, boy! How soon do you think he's coming back?"

Dean sat back down slowly on the couch, and the meeting of staff was adjourned. Until further notice, they weren't needed to come into work. Everyone filed out of the room, but Dean and Balthazar stayed. The other man watched everyone go, then patted his thighs. 

"Well, that was lovely but I really must be disappearing now." he handed a slip of paper to Dean, who took it curiously, "My number. Don't waste it."

Like that, the actor was gone. Dean was alone in Cas' dressing room. He took a moment just to walk around carefully, memorizing it.

Where are you, man? Dean thought.

He looked for any clues that might have been left, something to tell Dean why Cas was taken, by who, and where. But, of course, there was nothing. He opened the three drawers of Cas' night stand one by one, seeing them filled with keys, papers, and miscellaneous objects. In the last one he found a wallet-sized picture. It was the two of them off stage together, stuffing their faces. Cas must have asked someone to take it.

Dean smiled, and slipped it into his pocket with Balthazar's number and making sure not to wrinkle it. 

He looked around the room one more time, but there was nothing else. 

Dean started to walk out the door, but paused. He turned around in the doorway, hand hesitating at the light.

"Cas I know you can't hear me but...it will be okay. The police will find you soon. It's their job, right?" he snorted softly, "And I'll wait for you. Don't worry about that, Sunshine. I'll be here when you get back, and every day until then."

He moved to switch off the light, but paused again. Dean lowered his head, and wiped his eyes clear of tears. He lifted his head, biting his lip.

"I love you."

The lights flicked off, and the room went dark. Dean left, hating to see the place he associated with fun, and cuddling, and Cas do void.

And so help him if those mafia men had hurt a hair on Cas' head, he would gank them himself.


	11. This Must Be My Dream

The rest of the day was painful for Dean. The repetitive yet probing questions asked by the police did nothing to help that.

"What's your name?"

"Dean WInchester."

"And your relationship with the vic-missing?" the police officer stumbled, and Dean bit back a retort of he won't be a victim if you do your fucking job.

"Co-worker and," Dean paused to think about it for a moment. Cas hd never wanted their relationship spotlighted, and Dean would give him the respect of not changing that in his absence, "friend. Best friend."

"How long have you known Mr. Novak?"

The questioned continued for half an hour, and eventually they just told him to relay his side of the story. He told them about the Dunkin run, finding Balthazar, and the man's mafia theory. They were not pleased to hear this, Dean could tell, though they never told him otherwise. 

When Dean got home that night all he wanted to do was sleep and never wake up. He fell onto his bed, the broken springs groaning beneath him. Even though his eyes were closed and he willed for it to happen, sleep did not take him. 

After trying for a while, Dean decided to be productive. He took out his computer-a going away present from his younger brother, Sam, that was given to him before he left for Hollywood. Dean typed Castiel Novak into the search engine.

Of course, hundreds of websites popped up immediately. Most of them were fanbases, but there were also a dozen or so news articles. None of them turned out to be what Dean was looking for, so he searched up Castiel Novak Murder.

He clicked on the first link, which brought him to a rather sketchy news site. Dean ignored the Busty Asian Beauty ads around the edges of the page and read on.

Hollywood actor and star of 13 Once has been arrested for the apparent murder of Uriel Shantiva, a local crime boss. The case is very twisted and complicated, as Novak admitted to the murder but it is unclear on what grounds he stands. At the same time, many are making the actor out as a hero because Shantiva had more than a few murder charges under his own belt. No trial has been scheduled.

Uriel Shantiva. Dean shrugged, unfamiliar with the name. If this Uriel really was part of the mob, as the article confirmed, Dean wondered how high up he was. He was surprised they hadn't done something about Cas already: the article dated back to about eight months ago, long before Dean was even in Hollywood.

But the mafia...they weren't exactly ones to play with their food. Dean shivered at the thought that Cas could be lying facedown in a ditch with a bullet-

No. No, it couldn't be. He had to be alive. Dean wouldn't take it any other way.


	12. Beaten

Castiel had a lot of regrets in life. Really, to many to list here. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, something Cas was nothing if not full of. Fifteen years old, that was when he made his big mistake.

"You can't leave! We need you! You don't have to do this, Cas. We'll work it out."

Cas adjusted his backpack higher on his shoulders, and kissed his mother's cheek. She closed her eyes, the tight lines around her eyes and mouth seeming to become even more prominent as though this one moment was adding more stress than forty years of life.

"It will be okay, Mom. You've still got Lucy and Michael. They'll help out around the house, and they'll get jobs. And when I come back, I'll be bringing so much cash home you won't believe your eyes." he tried to smile bravely, and tears welled in his mother's eyes.

She patted his cheek, "I love you Cassy. Never forget that we're proud of you, okay? And-and you can always come back home."

Cas nodded, hugged his mother. Her small frame felt so frail that he hated himself for not doing more. He should have done more. His mother deserved more.

Cas waved to his brothers and sisters as he walked, backwards, away from his old life. 

Cas drifted in and out of consciousness, so much and so fluidly he wasn't sure what was real and what he was dreaming. He thought he was in a warehouse....at least, it was a big room with broken windows and water coming down from the ceiling in steady drips. The water had been pouring for so long it had made a small pond on the floor, a pond that Cas was sitting in. He could feel the cold metal of handcuffs digging into his wrists, and his arms were uncomfortably pulled behind his back and around a pole. 

He drifted into another troubled sleep again, and when he awoke he saw two men coming into the room where he was being held.

"Where the hell am I?" he growled at them.

They ignored him.

"Hey! Assbutt!" Cas snapped.

One of the men rolled his eyes, and pulled a gun out of the waistband of his pants. Cas froze as the man turned the weapon on him.

"Shut your mouth."

The second man hit the first's arm lightly to get his attention, "Why are we even keeping him? Hit and run job, that's what it should've been." he complained.

"The boss said he want's him alive, that's all I know. Real personal, ya know? I mean, he did kill his brother."

Cas inwardly groaned. Of course he had. 

The men left soon after, and Cas let his head droop against his chest. 

He. Was. Screwed.


	13. The Boy With a Moon and Star on His Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still Cas' POV.  
> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving kidos and comments!!!

He did return to his family loaded with money. When Cas walked up the rickety wooden steps of his childhood home, he was aware of how he casually had a hundred dollars in his pockets. A whole hundred dollars. Being the lead on 13 Once had made him as rich as he always hoped, and the roles just kept coming. Cas would finally be able to move his family out of their shack and into a mansion. He could give his siblings real Christmas presents and they could have real Christmas feasts.

He kicked some snow with his boot. It was muddy and gross, but it was snow. Not much of that in Hollywood, California. Even though he knew the truth, Cas fully expected to walk into the house and be greeted by his family. Hugged tightly by his mother, and to be pig-piled on by his younger siblings. 

The silence that he was met with was unnatural...wrong. The house was cold, so Cas decided to make his visit quick. A pick up and go.

But Cas found himself taking his time, running his fingers through the thick coat of dust that had gathered on everything. Waiting to hear his baby sister, Anna, laugh, or Lucifer and Michael fighting in the kitchen. 

He picked up a photograph from the mantle, and put it in the duffle bag he had brought with him without even looking at it. 

The police were giving him today to take away all of his family's possessions before the crap house was taken by the bank. The investigation was closed, they didn't need the crime scene any more.

Crime scene.

His childhood home was a crime scene, and his family the victims of a bloody, unsolved murder. Cas should've been there with them, to fight for them or to die with them either way he should've been there, not off in Hollywood slumming it with other celebrities. 

His biggest regret.

The same oafs before shoved a plate of food to Cas, who raised his eyebrow and shook his arms to show that he was still handcuffed. They rolled their eyes, which annoyed Cas. It seemed they never stopped doing that.

"What?"

"I am handcuffed to a pole."

"And...."

"I cannot eat when handcuffed to a pole." Cas said slowly, putting a little extra sarcasm into each syllable.

"What do you want me to do? Chew it up and spit it out for ya?" the first man quipped.

Cas' stomach growled.

"I don't care, something. What day is it?" he asked.

"Thursday." the second one said.

Cas believed he had been kidnapped on Monday, which meant he had been here for four days.

"Yeah? Why am I still here and not in a ditch?"

"'Cause you're a lucky son of a bitch that's why. Up to me and I would," the second man took out his gun and mimed shooting Cas. He flinched, "do that." the man chuckled, putting away the weapon.

Cas rolled his eyes, and his stomach roared again.

"Mama bird? Feed me?" he pleaded sarcastically.

The first man just pushed the plate closer to Cas.

"Nah, you'll figure it out." he smirked.

Chuckling like idiots, they left.

Cas bent as far as he could forward and stuck his face in the plate of food, which was just a bunch of applesauce, for some odd reason. He slurped it up, feeling ridiculous but to hungry to care. After it was finished, he sat back up straight as a rod. His face was grim, and covered with applesauce. The thought of what he probably looked like at the moment made his mouth twitch, and soon he was roaring with laughter. The bout passed, and Cas sighed.

"I'm going insane."


	14. Proud Mary

Dean tried to look confident as he walked into the police station, but really he was waiting for the day that they would get so tired of him that they would just throw him in a holding cell for the night.

He tapped on the secretary's desk to get her attention, and she looked up.

"Yes?" she said sweetly.

Dean grinned back, "Hi, I'm here to see if there are any updates on the search for Castiel Novak? I'm a friend of his. Chief said he would keep me updated?"

The secretary's smile faded slightly, "Ah. Mr. Winchester, I presume?"

Dean nodded.

"Follow me."

"Awesome."

She led Dean to the chief of police's office, where she nodded to a plastic chair, and he sat down.

"He'll be out in a minute, don't worry."

Sure enough, about three minutes later, a large man in uniform stepped out of the room. He shook hands with the scrawny man next to him, and said goodbye. The chief nodded to Dean where he sat, and he followed him inside.

Dean sat down across from the police chief, who sat back in his chair. He looked at Dean silently for a minute, almost somberly. Dean drummed his fingers on his legs as he waited for the chief to speak. 

"Well? Any news?" he said eventually, breaking the silence.

The chief leaned forward on his desk, catching Dean's gaze.

"Have you ever heard the term, the first forty-eight Mr. Winchester?" he asked.

Dean looked away and scratched the back of his neck, "Uh, yeah. Forty-eight hours and then the case is pretty much dead, right?"

He nodded, "That's right. Do you know how long Mr. Novak has been missing?"

"He-he disappeared on Monday, right? And it's Thursday? What are you trying to say?" he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"I'm saying that we'll keep looking...but there's not much hope."

Dean nodded, and took a deep breath.

"It's your job, isn't it?"

"What? Yes, yes it is. And we'll keep trying, I'm just sayin-"

"That you won't be able to." Dean took another breath, and looked around the room. 

"Yes. I'm very sorry Mr. Winchester."

Dean shook his head and stood. He didn't look back, or even say goodbye as he left. He couldn't believe that they would just give up like that, give up on Cas like that. 

Dean climbed into the Impala, and heard his phone ring. He dug around in the compartment, and fished it out. The caller ID read unknown.

"Hello?"

"Winchester! What's the word!" a heavily accented voice said.

"Balthazar?"

"Who else?"

Dean closed the car's door,and sat back in his seat.

"Not good. First forty-eight and all. the chief said there was no hope."

"And?"

"I'm not giving up, if that's what you're asking." Dean sighed.

"Good. Remember, you get one call."

"You just called me," Dean protested.

"This doesn't count," Balthazar said sarcastically.

The line went dead, and Dean stared at his phone.

"Awesome." he muttered.


	15. I Love To Tell the Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas' point of view yet again. For quite awhile it will be like this, switching on and off. Also, a very short chapter. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think in the comments, I love hearing from you all!

Cas was fed up with the whole kidnapping business. Sure, he didn't really want to die, per say, but this? This was hell.

One of the guards, the one Cas called Oaf #2, chuckled.

"Aw, is wee little Novak feeling blue?" he mocked.

Cas scowled.

"Don't like how we're treating you? Used to big dinners and velvet suits? Are we not good enough for you, your highness?" he continued.

Oaf #1 jumped in on the fun, "Shall we play butler, my lord?"

Cas sighed.

"The worst part of this whole thing is you two. How did they even let you in the mafia? You're idiots."

Oaf #1 took out his gun and pointed it at Cas, "Idiots with guns."

"I bet they just filled them with rock salt or something," Cas scoffed, "can't let the children hurt themselves."

The man frowned, and looked at his gun indecisively. Shrugging, he pointed it back at Cas.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that." he said, unlocking the safety.

Cas' eyes grew wide, and he cursed himself.

"Wait-"

Oaf #1 pulled the trigger, hitting Cas' leg. The deafening boom bounced off the walls, making Cas' head pound. That was uncomparable to getting shot, though. For a minute, Cas didn't feel anything. He knew something had happened, but he wasn't sure if he had actually been hit. When the pain came, it came hard. It traveled up his leg, and Cas felt as though his whole body was racked with it.

He screamed.

"I think it works." Oaf #2 said approvingly.


	16. One Call

Of course, Dean didn’t expect them to keep the case open forever. He would’ve been an idiot to think that. Still, he had hoped it wouldn’t have to be open forever, he hoped they would’ve found Cas before it needed to be closed.  
His hope was useless.  
He got the call while he was toweling himself off, and thinking about how his shower needed to be fixed. It was rusty, and it groaned before the water came on. His cell phone started ringing, and Dean walked over to answer it.  
“Yeah?”   
“Dean Winchester? This is Scott Berry, the chief of police.”  
Dean’s heart simultaneously leaped with hope and sunk with realization. It was an odd feeling.  
“Oh? How can I help you, officer?”  
“I’m here to call you about the case of Castiel Novak. You’re the only contact we have for him. I’m very sorry to have to tell you this, but we’re declaring the case cold. It’s simply been too long, and we have no clues or trails to follow.”  
Dean was silent, his mind reeling and trying to figure out his next move.  
“I’m very sorry.” the officer repeated. Dean still didn’t respond, and the line went dead.  
He sank into the couch, rubbing his stubbled jaw. What were his options? He couldn’t search for Cas by himself. He didn’t have a death wish. Dean also wasn’t a cop, so he wouldn’t even know where to start.  
Dean sat up quickly.  
He wasn’t a cop. But he knew someone who was….  
Dean took out his phone, and dialed the familiar number. It rang twice before they answered.  
“Hello?” they said, voice groggy and confused.  
“Sammy? Were you still asleep?”  
His brother yawned hugely, and Dean smiled.  
“No, no. I’m good. What’s going on?”  
“Do you remember that time when you were ten and I was fourteen and mom and dad went on vacation to Bali or some shit?”  
Sam was quiet for a moment.  
“Er, yes? I guess?”  
“Yeah, well, I brought you a strawberry ice cream in a dish, and you said you owed me one. I need your help.”  
“Dean, what the hell is going on?”  
Dean’s mouth set in a grim line as he answered.  
“A friend of mine, Castiel Novak, is missing. The police have given up on the case, but I just can’t, Sammy. I have to find him.”  
“Castiel Novak like the movie star?”  
Dean rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Sam was trying to control his fangirling.  
“Yes.”  
“Are you two friends?”  
Dean paused for a moment before answering that one, “Yeah. He’s my best friend.”  
“Dean, you know I would do anything for you. But if the police said the case is dead, the ca-”  
“Sam.” Dean’s voice cracked, and his brother stopped talking,“Please.”  
“I’ll be there in three days.”  
Sam Winchester was true to his word. Three days later, Dean met him at a coffee shop in town.   
“Geez, you look dead. Are your kids keeping you up all night?” Dean cracked, punching Sam’s shoulder.  
Sam merely nodded, and they sat down in a booth. The waitress brought their orders in few minutes after, and Sam ran his finger along the rim of his mug.  
“So….how did you two meet?”  
“Work. I’m a PA for the studio that he’s filming with.” Dean answered immediately.  
Sam nodded, though his eyebrow raised in silent question.  
“What?” Dean asked curiously.  
Sam looked up at him, smirking.  
“Nothing, nothing. Fill me in a little more on this case. When did he go missing, what leads do the police have, and all that jazz.”   
Dean did. He told Sam everything he knew, from the strange way Cas had acted when Dean asked about his past, to what Balthazar had told him about the mafia. Sam listened intently, all but taking notes. When Dean was finished, his brother swore under his breath.  
“So above my fucking paygrade.”  
Dean leaned forward, catching Sam’s gaze.  
“Can you help? Please?”  
Sam thought about it for a moment, and slowly nodded, “I can try but Dean-” he took his wrist to make sure he had Dean’s full attention. He did.  
“Prepare for the worst, okay? It sounds awful but if an entire police squad can’t do squat…”  
He didn’t say it, but the there’s not really anything we can do was pretty obvious. Dean nodded.  
“Good. I think a good start would be getting that Balthycar guy down here. He seems like he knows something.”  
Dean frowned.  
“One, it’s Balthazar, two, he’s kind of underground at the moment. I can try but he’s kind of a dick.”  
Sam rolled his eyes.  
Dean went outside to call the actor, praying he would pick up. Still, he was one hundred percent surprised when Balthazar actually did.   
“Winchester! Good news I hope?”  
“No. Listen, Balthazar, we need you down here. The police closed the case and so I called my brother down. He’s a cop.”  
“What do you think I can do?”  
Dean licked his lips, shifting uncomfortably. Truthfully, part of him wished Balthazar would say no. The guy was annoying, and to….Dean struggled for a word. To Balthazarish to be off any help. Still, strength in numbers, right?  
“Sam said it would be a good idea. Plus, you know the city better than I do.” Dean tried.   
“Seems reasonable.” Balthazar agreed, “Though if I die I will kill you both personally.”  
“Got it.”


	17. Try Not To Die

"He'll be here, I swear. He's an asshat, but not a liar." Dean snapped, turning on his heels so he was facing his brother.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn't protest further. Dean continued his pacing. They were waiting for Balthazar underneath a bridge, one that trolls might live under. It smelled awful, and the river's water was almost swampish. It was also freezing out, something Dean had not prepared for. 

A truck rolled across the bridge over head, shattering Dean's eardrums with it's horn. He was ready to call it, but he knew that Balthazar was their best shot. Also, Sam would give him the smug, I knew he wasn't coming I was right all along and I'm glad you've finally seen the light, look. 

Dean watched a black van disappear on the bridge, and was surprised when it didn't reappear on the other side. He turned to his brother, eyebrow raised in question.

A few minutes later, Balthazar himself jogged down the small, muddy hill to the river. 

"Took you long enough." Dean growled halfheartedly.

Balthazar just grinned, running his hand through his hair. Dean noticed a few streaks of purple in it, and laughed.

"Is that your idea of a disguise?"

"No, It's my idea of fashion," he spat back.

Sam stepped between them, giving them both his best bitch face. 

"Stop, we're not getting anywhere by fighting each other." Sam scowled.

Balthazar lowered Sam's hand with his own, unimpressed. Still, he motioned for the brothers to follow him. Dean was surprised to find that his car was just that...a car. A black man, like something a soccer mom might drive. 

Balthazar saw him eyeing it, "What? Not what you expected?"

"Well, no. I thought you might have a limo or something. You don't even have your own driver?"

In truth, Dean was a little disappointed. 

"Of course I don't have my own driver! No one can be trusted. Imagine if the mafia got to my driver, it would be so easy to make it look like an accident!" Balthazar shook his head, as though Dean was being the dim one.

"Okay...where are we off to?" Sam asked, climbing into the van.

"Well since you idiots haven't come up with anything helpful, I've taken the liberty of calling in a few favors. "

"And?"

"There is a bar in town rumored to be run by the mob."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Why the hell would a mob run a bar?"

"It's not actually an alien idea," Sam piped up from the back seat, "ever heard of the Stonewall Bar? there was a huge riot there because it was a gay bar back in the sixties, but it was run by the mob. It's actually a great cover: you can use it as a home base, get lots of money off of people who use it as a place for their shady happenings." he shrugged.

Balthazar nodded in agreement, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, "The moose is correct."

"I stand corrected, I guess. Where's this bar?"

"It's the Ridge."

Dean's eyes widened a little bit, "Wait, what?"

Sam leaned forward as far as his seatbelt would let him.

"What is it, Dean? Have you ever heard of it?"

"Yeah, actually. I go there all the time...my friend works there." Dean went quiet when he remembered Benny. It would kill him if his friend had any part Cas' disappearance. 

Dean tried not to let himself think about that. He trusted Benny. Besides, Benny didn't run the bar or anything. He just sang there, nothing big.

"Hey, you okay, Dean?" he heard Sam ask gently.

Dean realized he had been quiet for awhile, and now both Balthazar and Sam were staring at him.

"Fine, fine. Do you know how to get there?"

Balthazar shrugged.

"I have some idea."


	18. Just Like Buddy Holly (But Smoother)

The bar was different in the day. Less people, for one, but also the familiar noise of Benny’s guitar and voice was missing. To Dean, it felt as though he was walking into a different place entirely.

Balthazar, ever the confident one, strode up to the bar without pause.

“I’m looking for a Mr. Shurley. The owner of this place, I presume?” he said smoothly, slipping the bartender a bill. From his position, Dean couldn’t see how much Balthazar had bribed him with. Probably a lot.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, and took it.

“Haven’t seen him.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes, and took out his wallet. Sam put a hand on the actor’s arm to stop him.

“Let me try.” he muttered under his breath.

Sam strode up, and leaned against the bar counter. The bartender ignored him, and began to wipe down the counter with a dirty rag.

“How long have you been working here?” Sam asked. His tone was friendly and conversational.

“About eight years now, I been workin’ on.”

“Really? Long time to be working at such a, at least I would assume, low paying job.” Sam pressed.

The bartender smirked, and crossed his arms. They were pretty thick, and Dean wondered, for a brief moment, what it would be like to try and wrap his hand around one of the man’s muscles. When he shifted position, the sleeve of his shirt lifted up to reveal a tattoo. It had a triangle, with two diagonal lines leading from the top corners to the opposite sides. There was some fancy stuff at the bottom, something that reminded Dean of a fish tail but to him it was all a scribble.

His brother’s eyes widened when he saw it, but he kept his cool.

“S’not my only job.” the man bragged darkly.

“Of course, of course. Hey, do you have a bathroom in this place?” Balthazar cut in. Dean felt a little useless just standing there, watching the game go down so he took out his wallet and offered his most charming smile.

“I’ll have a drink while we’re waiting for him.”

Balthazar looked back at him crossly, and it seemed as though he were saying, great, now I look like I have constipation. Way to go, Winchester.

Dean scowled back.

“It’s in the back, way back.” the bartender said with a roll of his eyes. He cleaned out two glasses with his rag, and turned to Dean and Sam.

“Pick your poison.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It wasn’t hard to find the file room. For such an influential mafia branch, the security was quite lax.

Balthazar was disappointed.

He picked the lock on the first door out of sight, and it swung open with a small, heart stopping creak. Nothing, just storage. He closed the door carefully, and continued on. It was with the next door that he finally had some luck.

It looked like a regular office, really. A dirty, orange office chair, watered-down sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds, and a rusty file cabinet. Which was unlocked, by the way.

Balthazar honestly could not believe it. Who was running this mob, a child?

He rifled through the file cabinet, finding nothing but receipts and bills. The usual stuff.

Balthazar moved on to the desk, getting more nervous the longer he was in the office. Now the bartender really would think he was constipated.

The top of the desk was a mess, strewn with coffee-splattered paper and cigarette ash. Balthazar loathed smokers, if he was being honest.

The desk also had a few pictures, neatly framed and with cleaned glass. They were family portraits, but one of the children’s faces, belonging to a small boy, was scratched out of the photo. Balthazar didn’t think it was that important, but he pocketed it just in case. Inside the top desk drawer he found a phone.

‘Who leaves their phone at work?’ Balthazar wondered, even as he tried to crack the passcode. He tried all of the most popular passwords, but it turned red for wrong at everyone. He slipped that into his pocket, too, mildly wondering if the child-run mafia would even think to have it tracked.

He was finished. Balthazar hurried to quietly close the door and report back to Sam and Dean (though the phrase of reporting back to them like he was their minion and not the other way around left a bad taste in his mouth). They were entertaining the bartender, or, at least, trying to keep him focused on them.

Apparently the only way they could think of to do just that was to spill their respective drinks on each other.

“I’m so sorry, man. We’ll clean it all-” Dean was apologizing, but he spotted Balthazar walking out from the hall and nudged his brother. The actor nodded at both of them, the cue that it was time to get the hell out of their before something went wrong.

“Actually, rain check. Thanks so much.” the younger Winchester apologized, his chair scraping out from behind him as he stood.

By the time the bartender began to protest they were out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, another note. I tried indenting the chapters, but it didn't work. I'll try to fix that as soon as possible! Thank you!!!


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